


Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

by knightinbrightfeathers



Category: Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow series - Gemma T. Leslie
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - No Magic, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Based on a Tumblr Post, F/F, M/M, Magic, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:13:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4939303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightinbrightfeathers/pseuds/knightinbrightfeathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Penny's new neighbor is pretty, sweet, and very odd, but Penelope Bunce isn't the kind of woman to hold strange smells and packages mysteriously appearing on her doorstep against you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

Penny’s new neighbor moved in on a Thursday.

There wasn’t anything monumental about this. Thursdays weren’t all that special or important to Penny. No, the only importance to it being a Thursday was the fact that she had a night shift every Wednesday, so even though her first class on Thursdays was at ten, she was invariably bed-headed and grumpy on Thursday mornings. And so the first time she met her new neighbor was when she ran into said neighbor and spilled coffee all over said neighbor’s beautiful white trousers.

“Oh,” Penny said, and bit back a swearword. “I’m dreadfully sorry.” And then she added, “Shit,” because her coffee was gone.

“It’s all right,” the woman said valiantly, even though it looked like she’d pissed herself, and the coffee had been quite hot. “I should have known not to wear white on moving day.” She stuck out a slender hand. “Agatha Wellbelove. I’m your new neighbor.”

Penny peeked over Agatha’s shoulder- quite a feat, considering Agatha was half a head taller and in heels- at the open door behind her, through which movers carrying boxes could be seen. “Nice to meet you. Penelope-”

One of the movers dropped a box, which emitted a strangely deep and echo-y _gloingaloingaloing_ sound. Agatha turned very white and spun around quickly. “Oh, no, no no no…” She gave Penny a hasty smile. “I’m sorry, it’s just, that’s a really delicate instrument-“

“No problem,” Penny said, relieved that she wouldn’t have to make small talk and miss her bus. She downed the last of the coffee and jammed the cup in her bag. “Welcome to the building.”

Agatha didn’t hear her- the _gloingaloingaloing_ sound was getting annoyingly loud, hopefully Agatha wouldn’t play her musical instruments all hours of the day and night- and Penny raced down the stairs.

~*~

When Penny got home that evening, she was decidedly less grumpy, and infinitely more embarrassed about her encounter with Agatha in the morning. She’d been positively rude to a new neighbor, ruined her clothes, and most embarrassing of all, Agatha was very pretty, and her first impression of Penny was bed-head, the Doctor Who t-shirt, and circles under her eyes.

You were supposed to bring new neighbors baked goods as presents. Penny offered up a quick prayer (addressed to the universe in general) that Agatha didn’t have any allergies and wasn’t on a diet, and threw together the most inoffensive cake she could think of. Half an hour later, with her hair more or less tamed, her shirt switched out for something less nerdy, and a steaming honey cake in hand, Penny knocked on the door.

There was a sound like something heavy falling over, and a sound like _“bloody hell dammit all to- to- Bognor”_ , which Penny though was a bit excessive, and a couple of minutes later Agatha opened the door. Her hair was in her eyes, and she’d changed into yoga pants and a sweatshirt with ‘GoU- Class of 2012’ on it. She was also much prettier than Penny had remembered, the kind of person who could wear a garbage bag and still look like they’d stepped off the runway. She also smelled very strongly of sage.

“Hi,” Agatha said.

Penny blinked at her for a moment before remembering what she’d come to do. “Hello. I just wanted to welcome you properly into the building. And apologize for running your trousers this morning. It wasn’t a very good start, and-” She realized she was babbling. “Well, I brought cake. I hope you’re not allergic to anything.”

“Just edelweiss,” Agatha said.

“What’s edelweiss?” Penny asked.

“It’s a kind of wildflower that grows in the Alps,” Agatha said taking the cake from Penny’s hands. “This smells wonderful.”

“How did you find out you were allergic to _that_?” Penny asked.

Agatha blushed, looking down at her feet. “It’s kind of a, well, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“All right,” Penny said, because she could recognize an embarrassing childhood story when she saw one being skirted around. “It’s none of my business, really.”

“Thanks for the cake,” Agatha said. “I’d invite you in, but it’s a complete mess in there.”

The little that Penny could see through the open door looked tidy enough for a new flat, but maybe Agatha was a neat person. Penny’s own flat wouldn’t be much changed even if a hurricane- or more frequently, Baz and Simon and Lucinda and Elspeth and Rhys- tore through it.

“It’s fine,” Penny said, smiling at Agatha understandingly. At least, she hoped it was an understanding smile. It felt more like a ‘please let me bathe in the glow of your loveliness’ smile. “Good night. And good luck with the packing.”

“Thank you again,” Agatha said. She closed the door when Penny slipped back into her own flat.

The smell of sage seemed to linger on Penny’s clothes all evening, even though she hadn’t touched anything.

~*~

To both Penny’s disappointment and relief, she and Agatha kept different hours. Agatha wasn’t loud, so Penny couldn’t tell what her neighbor’s schedule was, but she never saw her leave in the mornings or heard her come back at night. The only indicator that Agatha didn’t spend her days staring out the window like Rapunzel, with whom she shared a certain physical similarity, was the smells that came from the flat opposite Penny’s. Cinnamon, rosemary, and anise all hinted at baking, but there were also lavender and pine and a variety of smells that Penny didn’t recognize.

At least Agatha didn’t play whatever loud mysterious instrument had been in the box that the mover had dropped. _Maybe it broke_ , Penny thought sympathetically.

And then, a month after Agatha moved in, parcels began to arrive. Small parcels that ended up on Penny’s doorstep more often than not, marked ‘Fragile’ and ‘This Side Up’ (inevitably upside down). Every time, Penny picked the parcel up carefully, flipped it right side up, and knocked on Agatha’s door. Agatha would answer, apologize for the delivery service, and thank Penny before disappearing back into her flat with the parcel.

It was a rainy winter’s day when Penny, rummaging through her bag for her keys with cold, numb fingers, heard a muffled thump. Looking around, she saw nothing, and took a step forward, keys in hand, only to kick something small.

There was a box, messily taped closed, on her doormat. Penny was sure that it hadn’t been there before. Picking it up, she saw that it had ‘URGENT!!!’ on it in red marker.

 _Of course it was there before, don’t be silly,_ she told herself. _You just weren’t looking._ She crossed the stairwell and knocked on Agatha’s door.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Agatha gasped when she opened the door. “Right on time. Thank you so much, Penny.”

“You’re welcome,” Penny said, a little nonplussed. “You know, you should really consider changing your delivery service.”

“Oh. I didn’t know the boxes were bothering you. I should have thought- I’m very sorry-” Agatha’s shoulders slumped. Penny noticed that she had a streak of something green on her cheek.

“It’s not a bother, really,” Penny said. “Just, you should get the service you pay for.”

“You’re right,” Agatha said feelingly. “I need to correct the address on the registry, that’s all. I’m just too lazy to do it.”

“No need to hurry,” Penny said unthinkingly. “I mean, I don’t mind.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Agatha said, beaming. A high pitched whistle came from inside her flat. “Oops. I think I’ve neglected the cordial for too long.”

“Good luck with that,” Penny said, and sniffed the air. “It smells like smoke.”

“Gemma’s going to kill me!” Agatha shrieked. “Thanks- bye- sorry!” She shut the door, leaving Penny puzzled, but amused.

~*~

True to form, two days later, Penny came home to yet another package on her doorstep. She wiped the ridiculous little grin from her face and knocked on Agatha’s door.

This time, a much calmer Agatha greeted her. “Thanks,” she said, hesitating before adding, “Do you want to come in? It’s nice and warm, and I’ve got fresh muffins.”

Penny thought of her own flat, which would be cold, and the unappetizing pasta leftovers she had for dinner. “I’d love to.”

“Great! Make yourself comfortable. You can take your shoes off. I’ll be back in a minute, I need to clean up my workspace,” Agatha said, closing the door behind Penny. She ran off, leaving Penny standing in the living room.

The flats were all identical in their structure, but Agatha’s furnishings were vastly different from Penny’s. Penny’s flat had what Simon called ‘thrift shop chic’, which mostly meant everything was soft and comfortable and kind of messy. Agatha’s flat wasn’t pristine, but it was done up in light colors, the furniture airy. Penny felt the tension and weariness of the week bleed out of her body, leaving her refreshed and relaxed. She hung her coat and scarf on the hat tree, shucked her boots and set them next to her bag on the floor.

“Please, sit down,” Agatha said, walking into the living room. She’d taken her hair out of its ponytail, letting it slide over her shoulders, bright gold contrasting with her dark shirt. “Would you like tea or coffee?”

“Tea, please,” Penny said. “I like your living room. It feels like you can really breathe in here.”

Agatha beamed at her. “Thank you! I think I went a little overboard, so it’s nice to hear. What kind of tea do you want?”

“Whatever you have,” Penny said absently, wondering what Agatha had gone overboard with.

“I’ve got English Breakfast, Earl Grey, chamomile, mint, peach, cinnamon, rosehip, lemon, ginger, oolong, white, vanilla, echinacea, raspberry, passion fruit, cherry, and almond,” Agatha said. “Unless you want medicinal teas, in which case I think you should reevaluate your life choices.”

“Um,” Penny said. “That’s a lot of tea. Very… British of you.”

“That’s one thing to call it,” Agatha said. Taking pity on Penny, she asked, “Is English Breakfast with milk okay?”

“Yes, thank you,” Penny said. She smiled when Agatha entered the kitchen and began humming to herself.

Penny’s friends had despaired often of her nosiness. It wasn’t that Penny was impolite, or disregarded privacy. She’d learned to be cautious in the lab, where curiosity could explode and burn her eyebrows clean off, but anywhere else, she was just constantly curious. And now, Agatha’s shelves full of curios were calling her.

They were a mix of ordinary and peculiar. There was a framed photo of two women, one who bore a marked similarity to Agatha, hugging a little girl with blonde pigtails and a boy with a toothy smile. There was a conch shell, and a carved wooden box. There were several chunks of amber, a bit of sea glass, and a vase with papery dried flowers. On the top shelf, at shoulder height for Penny, was a large, smooth crystal on a metal plinth and a wooden statuette that looked like a mix between a fertility goddess statue and a Dali clock. They stood on either side of a lit beeswax candle.

“Tea’s up!” Agatha said. “Um.”

Penny put down the amber she’d picked up. “Thanks.” She took the mug Agatha offered.

“Uh, did you touch anything?” Agatha looked worried.

“Just the amber,” Penny said. Agatha relaxed. “And the crystal thing.” Agatha tensed up again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to mess with your stuff.”

“It’s okay. I’m just a bit, uh, particular, sometimes,” Agatha said. “I, I forgot something in my workroom. I’ll be right back.” She scampered off to the room that Penny used as a kind of guest room/storage hybrid, and came back a few minutes later with a little glass bottle, filled with some kind of oily liquid with a few petals floating in it. “It’s a thank you present for dealing with my mail.”

“You didn’t have to,” Penny said. “I don’t mind dealing with your mail.”

“Still,” Agatha said. “It’s like a very concentrated hand lotion. You only need a few drops each time. It’s good for any dry skin, even lips, but it tastes kind of terrible.”

“Thank you,” Penny said. When she took the bottle, it left a greyish powder on her fingers.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t notice it was dirty. I’ll clean it off for you. You can wash it off in the bathroom.” Agatha spoke a little quickly.

The bathroom was in the same place it was in Penny’s flat. She could hear Agatha muttering in the living room.

When Penny returned, Agatha gave her a smile. “Have a muffin, they’re good. What is it you do again?”

It was nice, talking with Agatha, making her laugh at Dev’s mishaps with the Bunsen burner and wincing in sympathy when Agatha told her about a family visit gone wrong. It might even help Penny get her crush under control.

~*~

It didn’t.

They sat together once a week, alternating between the flats. Agatha was sweet and funny and clever, and sometimes she smelled like the oil she’d given Penny, which was really very good. The usual chapped skin she got in the winter was no match for it. Of course, this meant she was constantly reminded of Agatha.

As if it wasn’t enough that they lived across from each other, the universe seemed to conspire against Penny, planting reminders of her crush everywhere. She kept finding dried flowers and soft feathers in her pockets. Crystals kept clogging up the lint filter in her washing machine. The girl in front of her on the bus had blonde hair. There was a cardboard box filling the trashcan like the parcels Agatha got.

Of course, Penny didn’t need any help with thinking of Agatha. She was pretty much smitten, and it hurt. There was no way Agatha, who was movie-star beautiful and a wonderful person and a connoisseur of random trivia facts, would think of Penny that way. She tried not to mind and kept her feelings to herself.

“What’s this?” Penny’s lab partner bent down and picked up a scrap of paper.

“Hmm?” Penny shook herself mentally and checked the timer again. Ten minutes until they could resume the experiment.

“This note. It’s got little drawings on it, see?” He held it up in front of her face, and Penny tried not to sigh. Stupid group projects.

“I don’t know, probably trash. Just throw it away.”

“It fell out of your shoes,” he said. “It was probably tucked under one of the straps.”

Penny sighed and held her hand out. If she threw it out, maybe he’d shut up. “Give it, then.”

He handed it over, and instead of crumpling up the paper, Penny tucked it back into her pocket. She couldn’t say why, exactly, only that it made her feel loved. It was kind of pretty, and gave her a vague sense of déjà vu, and Penny spent the rest of the day trying to figure out what exactly it reminded her of.

~*~

Penny knocked on Agatha’s door, shivery and miserable. It was the stormiest day they’d had all winter, with a nasty rain that turned into hail. Her umbrella had broken, the bus was late, and all she wanted was to defrost her toes and talk with someone sympathetic.

“Go away,” came faintly from inside Agatha’s flat.

Penny stared at the door in shock. “Excuse me?”

“I’m dying,” Agatha said.

“Then you should bloody well let me in!” Penny hammered on the door with her fist. “If you don’t let me in right this instant, I’m calling an ambulance!”

“No! Wait!”

Penny waited, shifting her weight from side to side and feeling her socks squish inside her boots.

Agatha opened the door, just a crack, poking her head out. “See? Leave me to die in peace.”

She didn’t _look_ like she was dying. She was paler than usual, with high spots of color on her cheeks and a red, dry-looking nose, and her hair was a mess. She wore a blanket like a cape. Penny stood on her toes to feel Agatha’s temperature, and Agatha recoiled.

Penny glared at her. “Don’t be silly.”

“You could catch it,” Agatha muttered.

“You’ve got a cold, you moron, not the plague. Let me check your temperature,” Penny said. Agatha complied, leaning forward and letting Penny feel her forehead.

“Oh, I can’t tell. My fingers are numb,” Penny said crossly. “Do you have a thermometer?”

“Yuh.”

“Did you use it? Do you have a fever?”

Agatha widened her eyes. “Can’t put it in my mouth. It’s for _work_.”

Penny sighed. “How can you be so competent at everything but this?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Stay here, I’m getting mine.”

“I’ll get germs on it,” Agatha protested, but she stayed in the doorway as Penny went into her flat. She shucked her outdoor things, dumped her bag on the floor, and grabbed the entire contents of the medicine cabinet.

Agatha squinted at the little plastic basket in Penny’s arms when she came out. “I’ve got medicine.”

“Get back inside,” Penny ordered. “You’ve got natural remedies. I don’t trust anything that smells of a greenhouse. Medicine should be disgusting and chemical.”

“My medicine _is_ disgusting,” Agatha said. She shuffled into her living room and watched as Penny set the basket on the table. “And you said everything is chemicals.”

“I refuse to have my rants used against me.” Penny held up the thermometer. “Especially by someone wearing Hello Kitty socks.”

“They’re warm,” Agatha said defensively.

“Mmhm. Stick this under your tongue.” Penny watched to make sure Agatha didn’t just stick the thermometer in her armpit- she’d dealt with a sick Simon too many times to be fooled that easily- and looked around the little flat. The usually tidy space was littered with tissues, mugs, and glass bottles labeled in Agatha’s rounded handwriting. “Look at this mess!” She picked up a bowl half filled with murky water. A few balls of something green floated to the top.

“Don’t touch anything, it’s got my snot all over it,” Agatha said around the thermometer.

“I’m just going to clear your debris, don’t worry. Besides, it’s just the flu. Relax.” Penny moved the bottles to the kitchen table, which was already covered in them. The thermometer beeped. “What’s your temperature?”

“Seven two,” Agatha said, unconvincingly.

“You’re a terrible liar, sweetheart.” Penny plucked the thermometer out of Agatha’s unresisting hand. The little display read ’38.1’. “Sit down on the couch and I’ll make you tea.”

“I don’ want any more tea,” Agatha whined.

“Normal tea, not all this muck.” Penny sniffed a mug. “What is this? It smells awful.”

“It’s my mum’s recipe,” Agatha said, drawing her knees up onto the couch. “Willow bark, elderberry bark, and gardenia.”

“Sounds like a disaster,” Penny said cheerfully. “Where can I dump the big bowl?”

“Toilet. It’s a steam bowl to unclog my nose,” Agatha said.

“Physician, heal thyself,” Penny quoted.

“It’s not medicine,” Agatha muttered. “I can’t take the medicines when I’m sick, it makes me turn colors.”

Penny raised an eyebrow and went to flush the contents of the bowl down the drain. “It smells like a compost heap in here, I’m going to open a window.”

“I’ll be cold,” Agatha said.

Penny turned to look at her. Agatha was curled up in a little ball under her blanket, Hello Kitty socks peeking out from underneath and her head with its yellow nest poking out on top. Penny felt her heart melt a little, although she still wasn’t going to touch any of the used tissues.

“Do you want to lie down in bed?” she offered. “It might be more comfortable there.”

Agatha shook her head. “It’s boring in there.”

“I’m sure your living room is fascinating,” Penny said drily. “I’ll bring you another blanket.”

“No!” Agatha leaped to her feet, smacking her toe on the coffee table. “Ouch! I’ll do it!”

Penny gave her a bemused look. “Okay. I’ll turn on the kettle.” She busied herself in the kitchen. “Do you have any lemons?” she called.

“In the fridge!”

The refrigerator held, in between the mustard and the milk and the Chinese takeaway, a plethora of unidentifiable mixtures in Tupperware and coke bottles. Penny didn’t like soda very much, but she was sure that Fanta wasn’t supposed to be purple with glitter in it. She grabbed a lemon out of the fruit drawer and shut the fridge.

“Have you had anything to eat?” she called, slicing the lemon open (the search for the cutlery drawer turned up all sorts of things that Penny didn’t want to know about.)

“No,” Agatha said from right next to her ear.

Penny jumped. “Goodness! Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Sneak up on me like that.” Penny poured hot water into a mug and added a spoonful of honey. “There you go, ginger tea with lemon and honey.”

“Sorry,” Agatha said, accepting the mug. “It happens when I’m sick.”

“What does, turning into a cat burglar?”

Agatha blinked at her. “Sure. That.”

“Apology accepted. Go sit down on the couch, weirdo. I’ll make you toast.”

“Use the red toaster, the yellow one has a rock in it,” Agatha said. She returned Penny’s gaze. “What?”

“How have you survived this long?” Penny asked, plugging in the red toaster. She peeked into the yellow one, which did indeed have a slab of stone in it, as if it were a slice of bread. “Anything I should know about the fridge?”

“Of course not. I don’t freeze herbs,” Agatha said indignantly. “It’s just got ice cream and things in it.”

“No dried frogs or camel spit?”

“Don’t be disgusting,” Agatha sniffed. She sneezed, and the lights flickered. “Woops.”

“Damn storm,” Penny said. “Butter on your toast?”

“Yes plea- achoo!”

“Bless you,” Penny said.

“Dank oo.” Agatha blew her nose.

The toaster popped out the sliced bagel Penny had put in it, both halves landing neatly on the plate she’d put out. Penny frowned, then shook her head and spread butter on each half.

“Here you go-” Penny blinked. “Nice blanket.”

“Huh?” Agatha eyed the neon patchwork monstrosity she’d draped across her back. “Oh. And this was my favorite blanket.”

“It can still be your favorite blanket. Don’t let anything I say change that.” Penny closed the window. “You look a little better.”

“I feel a little better,” Agatha said. She eyed Penny’s medicine basket. “I don’t think I need any of your pills.”

“Nice try,” Penny said. She picked out a box of Benadryl. “One now and one in the morning, plus the Dexamol before you go to sleep.” She waited until Agatha swallowed the pill, making faces like a child. “I’m going to go home, okay? Give me a ring if you need anything.”

“Sure. Thanks, Penny.”

“No problem,” Penny said, picking up the plastic basket. “Get better soon.”

“No, really, I mean it,” Agatha said. She grabbed Penny’s hand. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Penny said, at a loss before Agatha’s intent gaze.

A shock like static electricity passed between them, making Agatha snatch her hand away. “I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine, just static,” Penny said, ignoring the warm tingly feeling that spread through her body and dried up her soggy socks.

~*~

Agatha was better in time for their next meet-up (Penny refused to call them dates). She answered on the first knock and told Penny she’d be right over, bright and cheerful and radiating joy and light.

She was kind of glowing, actually, but that was probably just the hall lighting.

Penny left her door open and went through the long process of turning on central heating (“Work, damn it! Bloody- well- work!” which turned into banging the remote on things and listening intently for the ‘beep’ that meant the heating was on.)

“Do you need help with that?” Agatha asked, shutting the door behind her.

“Please,” Penny said, handing the little remote over. “It’s like you’re a wizard with that thing.”

“Funny,” Agatha said. “You just need to show it who’s boss.” She poked at the living room vent and told it, “If you don’t start working, me and you are going to have _words_ , boyo.”

There was a sudden ‘beep’ and the heating roared to life.

“You menaced the air con into working properly,” Penny said, as they sat down on the couch. “How does that even work?”

“Probably just coincidental timing,” Agatha said. “Hey, I got you something.”

“You didn’t have to,” Penny said automatically.

“Of course I did!” Agatha pulled a packet wrapped in pastel wrapping paper out of her skirt pocket, which must have been much bigger than it looked. “Happy birthday!”

“My birthday’s tomorrow, but… thank you.” Penny couldn’t recall ever mentioning her birthday to Agatha.

“It is?” Agatha frowned. “I must have gotten Venus mixed up. Oh well, close enough, right?”

“Sure,” Penny said, unwrapping the present. “This is lovely. Thank you, Agatha.” She spread the shawl across her knees. The soft cloth was covered in embroidery.

“You’re welcome. A friend of mine does them, incorporates symbolic embroidery patterns. I don’t know most of them, but the leaf border is for longevity, and the irises are for wisdom and knowledge.”

“What’s the dildo for?” Penny asked.

Agatha laughed. “It’s a trollkor. They’re against bad luck.”

“Suuuuure,” Penny said. “Looks like a penis to me.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Agatha said.

Penny folded the shawl. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

“I wanted to get you something special, so I’m glad you like it.” Agatha smiled, meeting Penny’s eyes. “You’re such a great person. You deserve nice things.”

“I’m not that great,” Penny said nervously.

“You are. You’re smart and caring and generous,” Agatha said. “You work hard and you take care of your friends and you’re very pretty.” She blushed.

“…Thank you,” Penny said. She bit her lip. “I think you’re pretty great, too.”

“I care a lot about you,” Agatha said. She reached out and took Penny’s hand. “A lot.”

It was a little hard to breathe. The room seemed to grow dimmer, with the couch as the bright spot. Penny could swear she heard music in the background, something with violins and tension.

“Please tell me if I’m misreading this,” Agatha added.

Penny took a deep breath, but she couldn’t find the words. The whole situation felt a little impossible. Maybe she was dreaming.

When Penny didn’t answer, Agatha nodded and withdrew her hand. “That’s okay. I get it.”

“No,” Penny managed, and pulled Agatha towards her for a kiss.

It was a good kiss. It was so good that Penny could hear violins in the background, for certain this time, something crescendo-y and happy. She smelled fresh spring air and ginger and soap. She buried her hand in Agatha’s hair, and a lightbulb burst.

They sprang apart, breathing a little hard.

Agatha touched her mouth. “Sorry.”

“What for?” Penny asked.

“Your lamp.”

“Don’t be silly. It’s not your fault,” Penny said. She could no longer hear violins or smell ginger. She got up, wondering at how cliché her subconscious apparently was. “I’ll go get a new bulb.”

Agatha snapped her fingers, and light filled the room. “I think we need to talk.”

~*~

“So,” Penny said. It was the first time she’d spoken in a while. “You’re a witch.”

“Yes.”

“And all the herbal remedies and whatnot, those are potions.”

“And tonics and restoratives and elixirs,” Agatha said.

“Magic.”

“Only some of it,” Agatha said. “Knowing things is magical, if other people don't know them.”

“That’s Terry Pratchett,” Penny accused.

Agatha shrugged sheepishly.

“So… what, do you run a magical mail-order business?”

“Pretty much. You’d be surprised how many people want homemade herbal teas and anti-fungal ointments and such.”

Penny tipped her head to the side in thought. “And the things in your fridge?”

“Those are the things I don’t sell on the internet,” Agatha said. “I make them for other witches.”

“Other witches?” Penny’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that where all the packages come from?”

Agatha nodded. “They’re mostly ingredients that aren’t safe to mail.”

Penny’s eyes widened. “They get here by _magic_?”

“Well, we don’t use owls,” Agatha said. She winced. “Sorry, that wasn’t a very good joke.”

Penny’s head was spinning. A hundred little things suddenly made a lot more sense, from Agatha’s neon patchwork blanket, to the strange smells, to the flowers she kept finding in her pockets. “Did you put a piece of paper in my boot? With little scribbles on it?”

“Good luck charm,” Agatha said. “I’m sorry if it’s weird. Magic wants to be used, and if I didn’t use it that way you’d wake up with your flat filled with bubbles or your laundry folded.”

“Because you like me,” Penny said slowly.

“Yes?” Agatha wrung her hands. “I swear I didn’t do anything except put good luck charms in your pockets.”

“So what now?” Penny asked.

“Nothing, really. I mean, the government won’t send secret agents to wipe your memory. You’ve just been added to the group of people who know about magic.”

“It isn’t a very large group, is it.”

“No, it isn’t,” Agatha said. “I understand if you don’t want to…” She waved her hands around vaguely. “You don’t have to see me again. I mean, I’m not going to move out, but we can just go back to being friends, or neighbors.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Penny said, and Agatha’s mouth opened in a little ‘o’ of surprise. “I thought you were really eccentric and odd. This makes much more sense. Besides,” Penny added, mouth curling into a smile, “remind me to tell you about the time I dated a girl who turned out to be the head of the official David Cameron fanclub.”

“I guess anything’s better than that,” Agatha said, smile a little shaky.

Penny took her hand. “You haven’t scared me away. Just promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?” Agatha asked.

“Stop putting crystals in my sweaters,” Penny said, and Agatha ducked her head, grinning. “They keep clogging the washing machine.”

~*~

“So, we’re finally going to meet this neighbor of yours?” Baz asked from his seat on the backrest of the armchair. His legs dangled over Simon’s shoulders.

“There’s nothing finally about it,” Penny said tartly. “It’s not as if you’re here every day and I’ve been hiding her in the attic.”

“Yes, but you talk about her all the time,” Elspeth said.

“I do not!” Penny protested.

“She’s so pretty, and so funny, and so sweet, and she holds your hand, and she makes you dinner…” Rhys sing-songed.

“And she’s so focused when she works,” Lucinda continued.

“And she’s so thoughtful,” Simon said.

“But she’s not your _girlfriend_ , of course, and we’re being ridiculous and buying into socio-romantic norms,” Baz said.

“Well, she is now, and I’d rather you didn’t set out to embarrass me,” Penny said, face hot.

“We wouldn’t do that, Penny,” Simon said. Baz looked as if he didn’t agree. “Right, guys?”

A chorus of “sure” went around the room.

“Baz?” Simon grabbed his boyfriend’s ankle. “You’ll behave, won’t you?”

“That’s what she said,” Baz said.

Penny, predicting Simon inevitably caving in to his boyfriend, said, “You know I still have those photos from Martin’s wedding.”

“Low blow, Bunce,” Baz said.

“Fight to win,” Penny retorted smugly.

The door opened, and Agatha came in. “Sorry I’m late. I spilled something in the workshop and it took ages to clean up.”

Penny jumped up to greet her, getting a kiss on the cheek for her troubles. “It’s fine. Everyone, Agatha. Aggie, this is Lucinda. Elspeth’s the one sitting on the table like a savage, that’s Rhys, the blond is Simon, and the parrot on his shoulder is Baz.”

“Hey,” Baz said. “I object to that description.”

“Yes, how do I recognize him when he falls off the back of the chair?” Agatha asked.

“Mean,” Baz said.

“Be nice,” Simon told him.

“What are you going to do, blush me to death?”

Simon just grinned and lifted Baz’s legs, making him lean backwards precariously.

“Ignore them,” Elspeth said. “They’ll flirt all night if we let them. You said something about a workshop?”

Agatha nodded, letting Penny take the bottle she’d brought. “I make herbal remedies and sell them online.”

“That’s really cool,” Rhys said. “You have your own lab at home?”

“Kind of,” Agatha said, exchanging a glance with Penny.

~*~

“Woah, this stuff is really strong,” Lucinda said, squinting at the orange liquid in her glass. “Where do you get it?”

“I make it,” Agatha said. “Relax, Penny, it’s mostly apples.”

“Mostly?”

“It’s _fine_. I keep it in the red bottles so I don’t confuse it with anything else.”

Penny raised both eyebrows. “This bottle is purple.”

Agatha stared at her girlfriends, and then at the bottle. Devoid of its contents, the bottle was very clearly purple. “Oops.”

“What is it going to do?” Penny hissed.

“Well, for starters,” Agatha said, and paused for a moment. “Does anyone here secretly have a crush on anyone else?”

**Author's Note:**

> Edelweiss- bulletproofing and invisibility  
> Elderberry bark, gardenia, eucalyptus- healing  
> I have no idea if the combination of herbs I've described is toxic, so please, don't use it unless you know it isn't.  
> The drink Agatha describes is applejack, which is a kind of distilled cider.  
> Title from "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic" by The Police, but really from "Come On Petunia" by The Blow.  
> I think I've made it to posting this before Carry On is released. Good luck, my lesbian babies.


End file.
